


fools in love

by cryoqi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst to Fluff, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, The two of you fall out of love, There's a timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28602936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryoqi/pseuds/cryoqi
Summary: "i'll do this all for the sake of you."
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Reader
Kudos: 19





	fools in love

Back when he was in high school, Atsumu was a foolish boy in love. He foolishly walked all the way to the train that took longer to get to than his own school, all for the sake of you. 

All for the sake of you. Though, it was a good thing, really. You brought light into his life, more than the morning sun that shone through the fingerprint-stained windows of the train and down on him and painted his blond hair golden. All because of you he could sit down on the hardened cushion of the train— as much as it discomforted him— and you sat flush up next to him, a little warm all over, as the entire train was crowded.

As far as he remembers, that’s when he first met you. Though, he remembers it as the two of you were standing. It was as typical as a first-meet scene in a romance anime: you were up against the side of the train, as it was crowded and busy, and Atsumu was right up against you, almost as if he was pinning you down like the “kabedon” of that romance anime. Neither of you had wanted to acknowledge his stare on you— soft, fragile almost, but it was unwavering and never to be broken. He should have thanked Osamu for wanting to visit the new cafe by the train, for if they never stepped foot in that train he never would have met you (of course, his pride didn’t allow it). 

The twin brother claimed that he should have been the best man of yours and Atsumu’s wedding when he learned the two of you began dating. Upon hearing the news, Osamu asked how that happened— he was proud of Atsumu, really, but he just couldn’t figure out how exactly Atsumu managed to grab the heart of someone as wonderful as you. 

According to lovestruck you, Atsumu and you sat in an empty cabin of the train, with the afternoon sun shining through the window. It was calm, serene; Atsumu was overcome with the feeling that he should do something. 

Spoiler alert: He did. Atsumu turned to you, face blank so as not to reveal his fluster, and told you, “I like you. Like, a lot.”

Before meeting Atsumu, you were just foolish. But as you began to get to know him with every trip home in that same cabin the two of you frequented, you, too, began to become a fool in love. Hence, your stupid little squeak of a “Yes!” that came out of you, though not unwilling. You remember your clammy hands that gripped your bag, as it had nowhere else to grab nervously, and your racing heart, beating quickly from answering nothing. 

“Yes?” he asked you for clarification. 

“I mean: I like you too,” you corrected yourself. You looked down at your lap, believing that the intense gaze he had on you was one of taunt; mockery. 

“Oh, I’m glad.” He breathed a sigh of relief, as he gingerly leaned back against the seat of the train. “I guess that means we’re dating now, right?”

“We are?” You asked stupidly. 

“Well, only if you want to.”

“Okay, boyfriend.”

In your third year the two of you fell out of love. One day, after a long day of work and stress, Atsumu had sat you down and told you that he wanted to focus on other things. You complied, as you felt the same. You wanted to focus on getting to a good university where you were to continue your studies further. Atsumu wanted to go on to play volleyball professionally, and he believed that keeping you in his small bubble would prevent him from becoming successful. 

What he didn’t want to believe was that he was still in love with you. 

You and he remained as friends, of course. What other reason was there for you to invite him to your wedding years in the future? The invitation said in pretty pink letters— which, he still remembers after all these years, that it was your favorite color— that you were to be married to some random guy that Atsumu didn’t even know. He was as irrelevant as Atsumu made him out to be. 

“Are you jealous, or something?” Osamu asked behind the counter of his restaurant, wiping the surface clean. It was after hours when Atsumu first read the invitation through, and upon seeing the flash of horror in his eyes, Osamu asked him if he’d like a drink of sake, motioning to the drinks he had behind him. The blond shook his head no, telling him that he had practice tomorrow morning and that he’d rather attend with swollen eyes than with a hangover. 

Osamu was solemn, understanding then that Atsumu never lost feelings for you. He hung his head low, and a wave of guilt washed over him. He didn’t remember what he had done to feel such guilt, but it was there, soaking him in the feeling. 

Atsumu himself didn’t know what to feel on the day of your wedding. Uncomfortable, maybe, in his suit that fitted him stiff; or awkward, as he was seated at a table with people he barely knew. In any case, Atsumu was left with an empty feeling in his chest that grew to become immense sadness as he watched your husband (oh, how Atsumu hated to call him that!) lift you up during the final part of your first dance as a married couple, spin you around, and watch your face for a split second that was lit up in pleasure. 

Something was lodged in Atsumu’s throat; he thought it was probably his heart. As stiff as an action figure, he stood up out of his seat and promptly left the celebration hall. He was sure he left his present for the couple by the cake, so he was free to leave. 

Atsumu was no crier. He never shed a tear when he lost a game, nor when his brother would hit him in that one spot where it just hurts. He didn’t cry when the two of you broke up in your third year of high school, and he didn’t cry as he left your wedding in the middle of your dance. 

So why, now, after a year had passed, did he feel like he was going to cry after seeing you on the train the two of you used to take together back as foolish teens in love? Maybe it was your appearance: the afternoon sun that shone down on you through the window (which everyone found to be so extremely dirty that they finally cleaned them pristine) painted you golden; you looked like an angel bestowed upon him. Though, angels aren’t supposed to make people cry upon first sight. 

Everything around him felt like the same situation as the first time he met you; it was the reflection of his misery. 

“Hello, Atsumu—” You stopped yourself. “Ah, is it alright if I call you Atsumu, or would you rather prefer Miya…?”

“No, no. Atsumu is fine,” he mumbled loud enough for you to hear him. “How have you been?”

“Alright, I guess.”

It was awkward, but it wasn’t the cute, fluffy awkwardness of your first meet. Rather, it was the uncomfortable feeling of seeing someone you once loved (and he still loved). 

“How’s the married life?” he asked you.

“I don’t know.” Atsumu took a look down at your hands that held onto your bag in front of you. There was no sign of a wedding ring. Had you divorced him?

“We’re not together anymore,” you said. You glanced out the window, then back at him, asking, “Well, how have you been? Alright as well?”

“Yeah. Where are you off to?”

“I’m off to see some friends.”

“Ah, okay.”

Another silence.

“Say, do you want to come along?” you asked him. “They’re fine with anyone joining in.”

He smiled, throwing away his high school reunion plans for the evening. After all, he was a foolish boy in love.


End file.
